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I am a big advocate of finding joy in the little things.  It’s a great mindset to have because noticing and appreciating the little things can be never ending.  

I remember being thankful for a chance to save the caterpillars that lived under a bush when I was little.  I built a mini village out of paper plate pieces because I thought they were homeless. It was a tiny housing development complete with picket fences and flower boxes below the windows. They didn’t get too excited about it but I thought it was amazing.

When I would find delight in the simplest of things as a child, my mom used to say, “simple things for simple minds.”  Maybe she was right!

To that end, I think it would be fun to write a post about the joy of mud puddles. 

This is the second installment in a blog series about finding joy in stretching our comfort zones. Breaking out of our comfort zones and being more spontaneous is a topic that resonates deeply with me, and I am thrilled to get to speak about it at a women’s conference in the fall (tickets are available here)!

Somewhere along the way, we have come to believe that getting out of our comfort zones means doing huge things, like giving a high school commencement address or competing in the Iditarod.

But the amazing thing about deciding to find joy in stretching our comfort zones is how satisfying the simplest of decisions can be. Sometimes, doing something tiny, something even slightly different from the norm, can be enough to trigger a joyful response.

Something as simple as finding joy in a mud puddle.

Near the end of February, we experienced a big midwestern winter thaw.  The snow began melting, the birds began singing, and the people came out of hiding.

Life was returning.

I had to get out in it.

I love mountain biking.  Biking is my own version of heaven on earth. It doesn’t require a ton of coordination like ball sports or skiing (if you didn’t read my crazy skiing story, click here), so it really appeals to me.

I usually ride alongside roads (on wider shoulders) but my hybrid tires can also handle dirt and trails. I prefer riding in the summer, but I have also enjoyed year-round biking for years. 

I feel especially triumphant after garbage-condition biking.

When the conditions don’t make sense to go out in and other people think I am crazy, I feel like I am onto something good.  

It’s not earth shaking, but the rebel in me is alive and well.

I like to feel like I am getting away with something when it’s junky out and I still get to ride.

I have ridden in

• single digit temps that freeze the water in my bottle even though it was hot when I left home,
• rain that drenches every inch of me from head to toe (wearing a really fun light-up vest, you should see it!),
• and crazy winds so strong and gusty that the ride focus becomes winning an inch at a time.

It’s fun because somehow things that don’t make sense to other people are more appealing to me. I love a good challenge.  If it’s hard, I love it!

But my favorite rides are the MUDDY ones.

If you’ve been part of the JOY BITES community for a while (you can join by signing up in the sidebar), you know how true this is! I am at it again.

There is something innately satisfying about intentionally riding through a big puddle.

Have you ever done it?

On purpose?

How did you feel about it?

I don’t know about you, but I am not trying to get injured.  I don’t ride in puddles on unfamiliar roads, you never know how deep some of those things are.  They could be like craters and I prefer to keep my simple mind intact. But I am on a mission to find the perfect puddle on my regular routes!

What is it about uniting with mud that makes me feel like I am winning something?

Maybe it’s the little kid in me who was told not to get her clothes messy. 

Or the little kid in me who is supposed to behave and leave behind a nice impression. 

Or maybe just the little kid in me who appreciates dirt.

I am sure there are good reasons for what we have been instructed to do.  Rules create order.

As a parent, I get that.

We are supposed to stay clean so our clothes don’t get ruined. 

We are supposed to stay in our comfort bubble of good behavior to inspire others to make good choices.

But… what if we don’t? 

Are there long-term consequences of getting dirty? 

Are we really so concerned with making a good impression that we stay comfortable and avoid experiences* that could bring lasting joy? 

And since when are the opinions of other people more important than living life fully?

*I’m talking legal experiences! I appreciate police officers and am not encouraging anyone to challenge their authority.  Keep it clean, people, keep it clean. But get dirty while you do it.

I love someone dearly who sees things differently. 

We have frequent conversations about wanting to break out of our comfort zones and have fun, but she admits she worries what people will think. 

And at times, it stops her.

We have joked that someday, when people visit us in a cemetery, my headstone might say “She knew how to live life to the fullest” and hers could say, “She had really great hair.”

We’re going deep here, but… what do you want your headstone to say?

Ok, that was fun, but back to the mud.

Somewhere along the way in life, I heard someone say “Dirty kids are happy kids,” and I began to believe it. 

What a great decision! 

Deciding to believe that dirt makes me happy has made for some phenomenally fun memories, most of which involve my mountain bike, Old Blue.

Old Blue is a trusty Walmart bike that was a gift from my husband. She was never intended to become an honorary family member. But times with her have been so fun and meaningful that I couldn’t help wanting to ride more and more.

She has taken me thousands of miles in our community, up & down massive hills and along beautiful country roads, providing countless hours alone to pray. Old Blue has taken me past herds of cows & horses in every season.

Side story:  Those cows never say “hello” back, but I believe they are just as glad to see me as I am to see them.  One time, when I saw the cows after an especially long winter, I joyfully hollered out “HELLO, FRIENDS!”  And then I saw the farmer. 

So recently, it was about 30 degrees out, but the sun was shining enough to melt the icy roads into super cold frosty mud – like a glorious mud slushie – and those puddles were calling my name. 

I covered up everything but my face and took off for my favorite lake neighborhood. 

It was the perfect kind of day to get swept up in the wonder of the little things:

• how beautiful the warm sun felt on my face after a long winter,
• how happy the fish must feel about the lake ice beginning to melt,
• how fun it was to see energetic dogs walking their people again,
• and how thankful I was that my boogers weren’t freezing.

The mud puddles were deep and cold and I aimed at them head on. 

There I was, a mother of two adult children, aiming for puddles without abandon, laughing out loud and hooting & hollering for the whole neighborhood to hear.

That beautiful brown stuff was flying up and splatterpainting me and Old Blue. 

It was in my hair, on my clothes, in my teeth. What a blast!

Now any good mud lover knows that you hit a puddle right when you get mud on the top of your helmet, so that was my goal.

It was the simplest of joys: Sunshine, a bike, and freedom to play in dirty water. 

Basic stuff. 

But I loved it because I could.

I loved it because I decided it was enough.

I didn’t need a big house on the lake. 

I didn’t need a fancy bike. 

I didn’t even need a bike without rust.

I just needed to claim some simple moments of middle age rebellion and live the life I had been blessed with.

My favorite moment from that day – other than getting home and victoriously seeing the mud on the top of my helmet – was when I was approaching a man and woman who were walking their miniature poodle. If I had to guess, I’d say they were in their 80’s.

They saw me coming from a long way off and very kindly stepped aside, into the grass.

As I rode by I thanked them and added, “Don’t worry, I would never splash you!”

To which the man replied, “Oh, we didn’t want you to have to ride in the puddle.”

I felt the enthusiasm welling up inside of me and had to shout with glee, “BUT THAT’S THE BEST PART!”

I heard them laughing as I rode off. I heard them laughing really hard.

Did that couple have a life-changing experience?  I doubt it.

Are they still laughing when they think about it?  Probably!

The best part was how my joy became their joy. 

That’s the thing about joy… you cannot keep it to yourself!

Even though they didn’t have to agree with me and jump in a mud puddle (if they did, YAY! Someone better get that on video!), they could share my joy.

I could have stayed in my comfort zone of making sure people thought highly of me, but I shared my authentic self instead.  It made them laugh, and hopefully made them think.

I am ok with that.

Actually I am super thrilled with that.

I’d like to encourage you to aim for the puddles. 

If you are worried about what people will think, you might get to the end of life and have regrets.

It’s your life. 

And your tombstone.

But if you stretch your comfort zone, you might get mud on top of your head.

And you might influence others to do the same.

No two people are the same, so – for you – aiming for the puddles could look more like:

If these ideas are way too simple for you, tune in next time.  We’ll move from stretching your comfort zone to busting out of it altogether by talking about going skydiving.  

When it comes to stretching your comfort zone, here’s good news: 

• You can do it in small ways that are meaningful to you,
• the discomfort will end,
• and you will grow in some way.

There shouldn’t be negative long-term consequences.

I’m pretty sure there aren’t long-term consequences from getting dirty. 

Or messing up your hair.

But there are long-term consequences from missing out on the life you’ve been blessed with.

Go forth and be joyful… the mud is calling and I am going biking!